Hunt
by raichley
Summary: The members of BAU become the main suspects in an investigation to find the killer of four people in four different cities. ** Criminal Minds and Supernatural crossover. One-shot. Part 2/3 of my "Monsters" series. **


**Disclaimer: I do not own _Supernatural, Criminal Minds _or any of the characters, and I am in no way affiliated with either show. This is for entertainment purposes only.**

**Part 2/3 of _Monsters, _but you do not have to read the rest of the series to understand this as it can stand alone. Sort of.**

_**.**_

**Firstly, I apologise for the long wait between this and the first two one-shots. I had my mock GCSE exams, and a History controlled assessment, and a shitload of other stuff to do. So yeah. I've been busy. Sorry. However, as I won't be as busy from now on, I'll probably have this series finished by the new year. If I don't watch too much NCIS...**

**I realise that _Spree _follows the more obvious continuation from _Runaway_, although I have sort of removed that from the series. It's more of an inbetween chapter so the whole _Slash Fiction_ thing at the end of _Runaway_ was tied up. I'd like to focus more on the Rosa storyline, though, and I've decided to take things in a completely different direction than they were going, and I felt that although _Spree _did a good job finishing up the _Slash Fiction_ side of things, it wasn't really necessary to the series. I was also sort of disappointed with _Spree_, which I guess is part of the reason I've made it into more of an add-on to the series rather than an actual part of it.**

**This is set in October, when I first started writing it (like 90% of this was written around the end of October so if the ending feels like a sudden shift, that's why) and also I am following, vaguely, the storylines from both shows, Prentiss has now been replaced by Blake, who doesn't make much of an appearance as I'm not confident writing her character. Actually I'm not confident writing any character, but hey, I seem to get it right at least half the time? Maybe? I don't know.**

**Also, I realise that in 'In The Blood,' JJ's sister's name was revealed to be Rosaline, or Ros for short. I refuse to change Rosa's name, partially because it's too much effort, partially because it's close enough to just ignore the 'Ros' part – Rosa could be short for Rosaline – and partially because I prefer the name Rosa to Ros and have been calling JJ's sister this since I watched season five.**

**Also – this one is really freaking long (two, three times the length of the others). But hey, I had fun writing it.**

.

JJ stared at the photo of herself and Rosa in front of her, and fiddled with the thin chain of her sister's necklace. Tomorrow marked the anniversary of the day she had found her sister lying bloody in their bathtub, cold and dead after her suicide.

She closed her eyes, remembering, and then abruptly opened them again to force away the painful memories. Wrapping her hand around the necklace, she slipped it into her pocket, stood up from her desk and started tidying up the files and paperwork in preparation to return home, although it was nearly fifteen minutes until she was supposed to leave. She needed to do something to ward away the images ingrained in her mind.

"BAU," Hotch's voice called, suddenly. "Conference room! Now!"

Sighing, JJ put down the report from their last case in Rochester, New York, and headed towards the conference room. It looked like she wasn't going home tonight... Which meant she wouldn't see Will or Henry for at least another few days. Great. That was just what she needed, especially right now.

"Four people have been murdered over the past three months," Hotch said as she entered the room, gesturing towards the pictures on the board. Three males, one female. All different in physique – the female was caucasian with blonde hair; there was one male caucasian with brown hair. Of the other two males, one was African American, and the other was Asian.

Hotch continued. "The first victim, Jason Hays -" he gestured to the African American "- was killed on the twentieth of August in Los Angeles. Marcus Ellis was killed around three weeks later, on the ninth of September, in Tallahassee. On the twenty-ninth of September, Monica Clarke was murdered in New Orleans. And finally, Seo Yun Jung was killed two days ago, on the twenty-seventh of October, in Rochester, New York."

Blake raised her eyebrows. "We just came back from Rochester," she pointed out.

"Actually," Reid said, a worried-looking expression on his face, "on the twentieth of August we were investigating the stabbing of three actors in Los Angeles. On the ninth of September, we were in Tallahassee trying to find two missing teenagers. On the twenty-ninth of September, we were looking into the death of the schoolteacher who was burnt to death by her students in New Orleans. And, as Blake pointed out, we did just get back from Rochester."

He paused for a moment, frowning. "In fact," he said eventually, the words coming out slowly, "there's no obvious pattern to the locations of these murders other than us."

.

"Agent Jacob MacKay," a tall, thin, blond man said, holding out his hand to shake Hotch's. "Internal Affairs Division. Unit Chief Cruz contacted us regarding your situation."

Hotch stared at the man. "Internal Affairs?" he repeated.

"Yes, Agent Hotchner," MacKay said, nodding. "We are investigating your unit due to suspicions aroused by your latest case. The evidence suggests that one of your team could be the killer?"

Hotch's eyes were piercing jewels, harder than diamond and more fiery than flames. "None of my team is capable of this," he told MacKay.

"The evidence says otherwise," MacKay countered. He gestured to the two agents behind him. "Kim, Romero, remove the photographs and files for this case from this room."

Kim and Romero moved past MacKay and started collecting the evidence into boxes.

"Look," Hotch said, stepping closer to MacKay, "Nobody in this room is guilty of these murders. You can leave my team alone."

MacKay raised his eyebrows. "Considering the circumstances, Agent Hotchner," he said, "that is not an option. We may have a serial killer in the FBI. We are not going to take any chances." He paused, glancing around the room. "Look, Agent Hotchner, I understand that this is your team. You don't want to believe any of them are capable of this. Maybe they aren't, but at the minute we have a very plausible accusation to investigate, and letting your team see the evidence would compromise that investigation. So, if you don't mind, we'd like to do our job."

Just then, Kim and Romero exited with the boxes of evidence, leaving the room bare, but MacKay didn't move. "We will be keeping each of you in separate rooms during the investigation," he informed them. "When Kim and Romero return, they will escort you, individually, to these rooms, where you will later be interrogated by a member of my team."

Hotch glared at MacKay. "You're treating my team like suspects," he accused.

MacKay tipped his head slightly to one side. "Agent Hotchner," he said, "your team _are_ suspects."

.

"This is weird," Sam said. "Look."

Dean looked at the newspaper. "Yeah, so someone killed a guy in Rochester. Probably just some punk kid. Might be a hate crime – he looks Chinese, right?"

"Korean," Sam corrected. "There's a difference. But that's not what I'm talking about." He gestured to his laptop. "Nobody has any idea how Seo Yun Jung was killed – in fact, the only mark left on his body was the imprint of some kind of chain around his neck."

"Right," Dean said. "Mysterious killing. Totally worth investigating. Sam, there's a bunch of friggin angels out there trying to kill us, and we're not even sure this is our kind of thing."

Sam shook his head. "It's not the only one. I've found eleven more, all found in their bathtubs, starting in late 1999 in this tiny town called Mars in Pennsylvania. It's a little north of Pittsburgh -"

"Mars?" Dean questioned. "Who names a town after a planet?"

"Actually, it was probably named after the Roman god of war," Sam said. "Who the planet was also named after. Anyway, there were a total of two of these deaths in Mars, the first in 1999 and the second in 2000. There's another three in Pittsburgh after that, then they move south to Virginia, where they've been happening ever since."

"So Pennsylvania to Virginia," Dean said. "Looks like a serial killer who moved house."

"Yeah, except the last four murders weren't in Virginia," Sam told him. "Los Angeles, Tallahassee, New Orleans and Rochester. Dean, no serial killer changes cities for every kill."

"Maybe he got tired of Virginia?" Dean suggested.

"That's also when the necklace started appearing," Sam said. "Which alerted the FBI – the method's exactly the same for every kill, so it picked up on their radar. The earlier ones didn't."

"So how do we know they're even connected?" Dean asked. "Look, Sam, I know you're looking for something to do, but there's nothing here."

"Their wrists," Sam said.

"What?"

"Every victim had evidence of self-harm on their wrists," Sam explained. "Not enough to kill them, but enough that someone would have seen it. At the time of death, it was pretty much healed, but photos and videos of the victims in the week or so before their deaths confirmed it hadn't been there beforehand, for almost all of the victims."

Dean sighed. "And you want to check it out," he said.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I mean, this is a pretty active killer, Dean."

"Okay," Dean said, "I'll get Baby out."

.

Reid sat alone in the interrogation room. He wasn't cuffed - apparently Internal Affairs hadn't seen the need – but it wasn't like there was much he could do right now anyway. He stared glumly into the one-way glass, a mirror to him, wondering if anyone was watching from the other side.

The murders didn't make sense. None of the team was capable of this, he was sure, but if he were to assume it was one of them... It wasn't. They didn't fit the hastily-worked-out profile in his mind. Of course Garcia was automatically cleared; she'd only been to New Orleans with them, none of the other scenes.

From what he'd heard about the crimes so far, they were looking for an organised killer. He knew the standard profile. White male, twenty-five to forty-five, with above average intelligence and at least a basic knowledge of forensics.

He went through the team, one by one, trying to fit them into the mould. JJ and Blake were female; Morgan was black; Rossi and Hotch were above the age range. Nobody fit.

Except.

He shook his head. He knew _he _hadn't done it – he would remember doing it. Wouldn't he?

His thoughts turned to his mother, who needed medication just to remember which day of the week it was. Schizophrenia was hereditary; he'd spent years being afraid that his mother's fate would come for him. He was still afraid of that.

And... What if?

What if a combination of his line of work and his mother's condition had eventually tipped him over the edge, flung him so far from sanity that he didn't even notice the difference? What if part of him – the part of him that was thinking now, rational, consistent, knowing full well it was a Tuesday afternoon – refused to remember what he had done because thought he'd never, ever do that? What if he _didn't_ remember?

He shook his head. He would have noticed, the team would have noticed, if something was _that_ wrong. They would have said something, or asked if he was okay. He would have had headaches, or something would have happened to let him know that things were different now.

He closed his eyes, trying his best to convince himself.

It _couldn't_ have been him.

.

"Four murders," Agent Romero, a woman with strawberry-blonde hair and startling emerald eyes, said accusingly. She glared at Morgan from behind her hooked nose. "Your team consists of the only people who could have committed these crimes, Agent Morgan. My money's on you."

Morgan raised his eyebrows. "Me?"

Romero nodded, scraping her chair back and standing up. "Yep. You," she confirmed. "You're the only one of your team who has a prior criminal record -"

"That was expunged," Morgan interrupted.

"- and you have been suspected of being a murderer in a previous case in Chicago," Romero finished.

"That," Morgan said, more angrily now, "was not me, Agent."

Romero walked around the table so she was on the same side as Morgan. "I know," she told him, "but they must've had a good reason to suspect you, or else you wouldn't have been arrested, Agent Morgan."

Morgan glared at the agent. "The man who arrested me held a grudge against me," he told her. "He was determined to find a way to pin the crimes on me."

Narrowing her eyes, Romero said, "He had a gut feeling, didn't he? He knew something was wrong with you. He knew you'd eventually snap and – bam! Murder!"

Morgan turned away from the agent, towards the one-way window. He wondered who was watching from behind – MacKay? Kim? Or were they busy interrogating the rest of the BAU?

"Agent Romero," Morgan said, making his voice as sincere as he could, "I did not kill these people."

"The first victim was African American," Romero continued, as if Morgan hadn't spoken. "Killers usually target those of their own race, don't they, Agent Morgan? Why'd you change after you killed Hays? Did you realise we'd link your team to these murders? Did you realise how obvious it'd be if they were all African American? Is that why you changed your MO, Agent Morgan?"

"No, Agent," Morgan said, his dark eyes making contact with Romero's green ones for the first time. "I am _not_ the killer you're looking for."

She walked behind his chair, placing her hands on his shoulders and leaning down behind his left ear. "I don't like liars," she whispered. "So why don't you tell me the truth, Agent Morgan? This interview might go a little better if you do."

"That is the truth," Morgan promised.

Agent Romero laughed as she walked away from Morgan and sat down in her chair again. "Let's say I believe that," she said. "Which of your team do _you_ suspect, Agent Morgan?"

Morgan shook his head. "I don't believe any of my team are capable of killing someone," he growled.

Romero leant towards him. "Then, Agent Morgan," she said, "give me one good reason why you shouldn't be our primary suspect right now."

.

"I want my phone call," JJ demanded as soon as an Internal Affairs agent walked into her room. She recognised the agent – Eric Kim, an agent of Asian descent who'd attended Prentiss' funeral despite hardly knowing her – and he nodded to her straight away and left the room. He left the door behind him open, but JJ knew better than to leave. It would make her look much more suspicious, and that wasn't exactly the best thing right now.

As soon as Kim returned with the phone, JJ took it off him and dialled Will.

"Hey," she said when he picked up, "I'm not gonna be home tonight."

"I've been tryin'a call you," Will told her. "You've been busy?"

"Um," JJ said, "no. Not really. There were some murders, and they think someone in the BAU is responsible." She caught the warning expression on Kim's face. "I don't think I'm supposed to talk about it."

Will paused. "Shall I put Henry to bed, then? He wan'ed to stay up 'til you got home, but..."

"Well, I wanted to talk to him," JJ said. "Can you put him on?"

"Sure thing," Will answered, and a few seconds later it was Henry on the line.

"Hey, momma," he said, "did you get another case? You goin' somewhere again?"

JJ smiled slightly at the sound of her son's voice. "No, honey," she told him, "but I'm not gonna be able to come home tonight, okay?"

"Tomorrow night?" Henry demanded.

JJ pressed her lips together. "Maybe," she said.

.

Dean pulled into a gas station a few miles out of Quantico. "You sure this is the best place to go?" he asked. "It's gonna be crawling with FBI."

"Nobody's looking for us," Sam reminded his brother. "They all think we're dead, remember?"

"Yeah," Dean said, "but we were on the top of their Most Wanted list because of those Leviathan freaks. They're gonna know our faces, Sam."

"We were on that list for a week," Sam said. "Not exactly long enough to make a huge impression on them."

"Okay," Dean said, hopping out to fill up the gas tank. The door thudded shut behind him. "It's your fault if we get caught. Or -" He leant down to look at Sam through the window. "- is this about that agent, who, may I remind you, also thinks you're dead, along with the rest of the FBI?"

Sam sighed, remembering the fiasco two years ago when the Leviathans had disguised themselves as the Winchesters and gone on a killing spree, putting Sam and Dean's faces at the top of the FBI's Most Wanted list. In the end, Sam and Dean had managed to use the Leviathans and a helpful sheriff from Ankeny to fake their deaths, which was extremely useful in getting the FBI off their tail. However, during the week, Sam had convinced Dean to turn themselves over to an FBI agent who they had no guarantee remembered him, on the condition that the press didn't find out about their arrest. Of course, the story had leaked, meaning Sam and Dean's trap for the Leviathans wouldn't work, and the Winchester brothers had been forced to make their escape, only to find out that the Leviathans had already committed their next massacre far enough away that it was impossible for the real Winchesters to have gotten there in time. They didn't know if their names had actually been cleared for the killings, but they were pretty sure JJ's team, at the very least, believed that they were innocent. And, of course, that they were dead.

"It's not about her," Sam said. "Dean, I hardly know her."

"You had no problem going to her last time," Dean reminded his brother.

"Yeah, when were at the top of the FBI's Most Wanted list," Sam said. "We don't need to drag JJ into this."

.

"Agent Rossi," MacKay said as he entered the room, "I hoped I'd get to interview you."

"Agent MacKay," Rossi greeted him.

MacKay sat down in the chair opposite Rossi's, and the two agents looked at each other for a moment. Two pairs of eyes narrowed as the agents sized each other up.

"Rather uncomfortable chairs, these, aren't they?" Rossi said eventually.

MacKay smiled a little. "You could say that," he admitted. "Look, Agent Rossi, I don't think anyone thinks you did this -"

"You accuse my team," Rossi said, "you accuse me, too, MacKay."

MacKay looked down at the table. "There's no way you could have known, Agent Rossi," he said. "Serial killers are good at hiding things, especially organised ones, and a killer who is also a profiler would know exactly what to hide."

"That's not the point," Rossi told him.

MacKay looked up at Rossi then. "What is?"

After a pause, Rossi said, "Has the press got hold of this yet, MacKay? What are they saying about the FBI?" He watched as MacKay flinched a little, a hardly-noticeable expression that lasted barely half a second, and he had his answer. "That's the point. You accuse someone in the FBI of murder, MacKay, and suddenly the whole FBI is to blame. You accuse someone in the BAU of murder... Do you think the BAU is even going to exist after this, MacKay? Because we'll take the blame, and people will believe our profiles even less. I mean, we couldn't even profile one of our own! How are we going to profile a stranger?"

MacKay didn't have an answer. The silence stretched out, minute after minute.

Eventually, Rossi said, "You really should consider requesting some new chairs for in here."

.

The shopkeeper at the gas station was watching the news when Dean walked in.

"Hey, kid," the man said, smiling, as Dean slapped some money on the counter alongside some pie he'd spotted. He began counting the money, and then put the pie in the bag.

Dean, however, had turned his attention to the news.

"Jason Hays, Marcus Ellis, Monica Clarke and Seo Yun Jung are the four victims that have been murdered within the past four months, all in different cities and different states. In fact, an informant from the FBI, who we cannot name, has told us that the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit was in all the same cities at the time of each murder. The informant has told us that the Internal Affairs Division has the entire BAU in custody, and they are being treated as suspects. However, this leaves the public to wonder – can the FBI really keep us safe, if one of their own can kill unnoticed for four months? We'll bring you updates on this story as it develops."

"Kid?" the shopkeeper said, glancing from Dean to the news. "Hey, don't look so alarmed. I bet everyone'll have forgotten about this in a matter of months. They'll find whoever it is, and that'll be that. Everyone'll carry on as normal."

"I gotta go," Dean said, turning and rushing out of the shop. The shopkeeper stared after him.

.

"Great," Sam said as they pulled out of the gas station. Dean had just finished explaining to him that JJ's team were the suspects in the case, as far as the FBI were concerned. "So now we gotta break JJ out of custody."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "We do?"

"JJ grew up in Pennsylvania. What happens when they realise that the murders in Quantico and Pittsburgh are connected?" Sam reasoned. "JJ's going to end up being charged for all the murders – eleven of them. We've gotta get her out before they put more security around her."

Dean nodded. "Okay," he said, "you got a plan?"

.

Kim had left JJ alone again. He seemed to have a habit for leaving the door open.

She sighed. Internal Affairs were wasting their time – it was more likely that the BAU was being stalked, somehow, than that one of them was a killer. Interrogating the team wasn't going to get them anywhere.

A loud beeping sound interrupted her thoughts, making her jump. It took her a moment to realise that it was the fire alarm. She heard footsteps outside, and voices; MacKay escorting Hotch outside, Kim with Reid, Romero with Blake. She wondered whether she should leave, or wait for an escort herself.

That was when Sam Winchester walked into the room.

"Hey," he greeted her, "did they cuff you?"

"_Sam?_"

"JJ," Sam said, in a voice that meant, '_I don't have time for this'_. "Did they cuff you?"

"No," she answered, shaking her head.

He nodded, glancing out of the door for a second to check the corridor was clear. "Good. Come on," he said, opening the door more so that she could get out.

"Sam, what -" she began, but then she stopped. He had to have a good reason for turning up in her life again at this moment, and she was pretty sure he didnt't mean any harm. His body language didn't suggest that, at least. She weighed her options for a moment, and then, deciding it was better to disappear than for MacKay and his team to find her talking to someone who'd once been top of the FBI's 'Most Wanted' list, she walked out. He followed, closing the door behind her.

She turned to him. "Which way?" she asked.

"Follow me," he instructed, and started down the corridor.

.

Once the firemen had scoured the building and found that, in fact, there was no fire, the FBI were let back inside. Agent MacKay, still with Hotch, was approached by Anderson.

"Where's Agent Jareau?" MacKay demanded.

Anderson shivered a little in the cold. "She wasn't in her room, Sir," he told MacKay. "I went to escort her down, and she had already left."

"And you didn't come to find me straight away because...?"

"I couldn't find you, Sir," Anderson said.

"Do you know where Agent Jareau is now?" MacKay's voice was getting louder and angrier with every word he said.

"No, Sir," Anderson said. The cold made him shiver again.

"You better find her then, hadn't you, Agent Anderson?" MacKay ordererd.

"Yes, Sir."

.

Sam opened the door of the Impala to let JJ inside.

"Sammy?" Dean asked.

"It's me," Sam told him. "I got her. I don't think anyone saw me, but they'll probably go through the security tapes when they realise JJ escaped. It won't take them long to figure it out."

Sam shut the door behind JJ and climbed into the front seat. "We should get out of Quantico, though. They'll have eyes everywhere pretty soon."

Dean nodded, and soon the Impala's engine was roaring as they drove down the road.

"Is anyone going to tell me what this is about?" JJ asked. She was watching Dean carefully, remembering the file she'd received after the first St. Louis murder. She'd turned it down; it was the same time the Keystone Killer had returned, and the team had worked that case instead.

Sam twisted around in his seat to look at JJ. "I'd have thought that'd be something you'd ask as soon as I appeared," he said.

"You seemed to want to get out of there," JJ explained. "I figured it could wait."

Dean scoffed. "And, what, you automatically trusted him?" he asked. "You'd never make a hunter."

"Whenever you two turn up alive," she said, "it seems to be with good reason."

"That would be a reasonable explanation, except last time I checked, the entire FBI thinks I'm a pyschopath," Dean countered. "Or, _was_, anyway."

"You weren't the one who came for me," JJ said. "Sam did."

Dean looked at Sam for a moment, raising his eyebrows. Sam responded by rolling his eyes and turning back to JJ.

"Okay," he said, "how much do you know about us?"

JJ blinked. "Dean killed two women and attempted to kill another in St. Louis; you both took over an armed bank robbery a year later, which resulted in the deaths of several hostages; only a few months after that you got tripped by a motion sensor in a police station, only to break out of jail less than a week later; and you were supposed to die in an explosion which killed an FBI agent, but later turned up alive and are suspected of setting that explosion. You're also suspected of other crimes such as credit card fraud, breaking and entering, impersonation, grave descecration and grand theft auto."

"That," Dean said, "is quite a long list."

"After what happened two years ago, I did some reading," JJ said. "I made sure I knew everything about you, in case you turned up again. I wasn't entirely convinced you were dead."

Sam nodded. "You missed something," he said. "I beat up a cop once. He saw the blood on my sleeve, but he didn't get to arrest me 'til a year later."

JJ's eyes widened. "Sam -"

"Don't worry," he said, "I've never -"

"What?"

"Killed anyone," Sam finished. His voice had gone quiet. "But I have."

"Sammy," Dean said, and there was a sort of warning in his voice.

JJ's heart began to beat faster.

Had she been wrong about Sam Winchester?

.

Agent MacKay walked into the interrogation room which David Rossi was currently sitting in. He walked around the table and leant against the wall next to the one-way window. His eyes searched Rossi's face.

"You don't know anything," MacKay eventually said.

Rossi raised his eyebrows. "You sound serious."

"Tell me about Agent Jareau," MacKay requested, sitting down on the chair. "What has her behaviour been like the past few weeks? Has she talked about anyone new in her life, someone she'd never mentioned before? Has she been more secretive than usual?"

Rossi opened his mouth to tell him than everything had been the same, but then he closed it, remembering JJ and Cruz outside the elevator. She'd certainly been acting differently – the whole team had been able to tell that something was off – and Cruz turning up had only amplified that.

MacKay, sensing Rossi's discomfort, leant forwards. "What is it, Agent Rossi?"

Rossi said nothing.

"Okay," MacKay said, leaning back. "Let's try something different. Where is Jennifer Jareau, Agent Rossi?"

Surprised, Rossi blinked. "I would assume she's in an interrogation room with one of your other agents," he replied. Silently, he considered the agent's question. If they didn't know where JJ was...then JJ had escaped.

MacKay narrowed his eyes. "Do you know who pulled the fire alarm?"

"Nope," Rossi said, shaking his head.

MacKay nodded and stood up, leaving the room abruptly. Rossi stared after him, wondering about JJ. She was starting to look suspicious, it was true – but even MacKay had to know she didn't fit the profile.

.

"Did they keep the tape from Baltimore?" Dean asked.

_Stay calm_, JJ reminded herself. "The Giles case?" she questioned. "I read the file. Your names were cleared."

Dean nodded. "Was the confession tape included?" he asked again.

JJ blinked. "Confession?" she echoed.

"Guess it wasn't," Dean muttered, and then spoke louder so that JJ could hear. "I told them I'd confess," he told her, "and they videoed it."

"If you confessed," JJ questioned, frowning, "why were your names cleared?"

"I didn't," Dean explained. "I told them they were looking for a vengeful spirit. Which, incidentally, seems to be the same thing killing people now."

JJ opened her mouth, and then closed it. Oh.

"We needed to get you out before they connected the murders in Pittsburgh and Quantico to the ones they already have," Sam informed her. "The MO's slightly different for the first seven – no necklace imprint – so that's why they haven't picked up on it yet."

"The first seven?" JJ repeated. "There's eleven murders?"

"Yup," Sam said.

JJ searched in her mind for a way to tell the brothers that ghosts don't exist, but she knew it would most likely only anger them. Her best shot, right now, was to just go with it. Let them do their thing, and pretend she believed them. She was less likely to die that way.

She watched the brothers carefully. It was strange, but they didn't seem like killers, not really. Maybe they were just good actors, and that was how they'd gotten so many people convinced they'd saved their lives.

She swallowed, realising she'd got herself into this mess. Nobody knew she was in danger. Nobody was going to come and save her. They all just thought she'd escaped.

She was as good as dead.

.

Morgan looked up to see Agent Romero return. She stood in the doorway, eyes narrowed, for a second, before shutting the door and sitting down opposite him.

"We looked at the security tapes which captured Agent Jareau's escape," she said.

Morgan raised his eyebrows. "Nobody told me JJ escaped," he told her.

Romero ignored him. "What is her connection to Sam and Dean Winchester?" she demanded to know.

Surprised, Morgan paused for a moment. It was a long time since JJ had revealed to the team that she'd once known Sam Winchester, and – after the brothers' brief stint on the Most Wanted list and subsequent deaths – he didn't expect it to be something that came up again.

"She knew Sam Winchester when she was a kid," he told Romero. "I don't know if she ever met Dean."

Romero nodded. "You found this out when?"

"Two years ago," Morgan replied. "The case was slightly confusing, but our theory was that two partners disguised themselves as Sam and Dean Winchester and went on a killing spree."

"A theory you never proved," Romero pointed out, "and a very..._implausible_ theory, too."

"The bodies of the imposters were destroyed before anyone could get a look at them," Morgan replied, "but we were pretty sure, mainly due to the fact that the Winchesters' escape in Quantico was almost simultaneous with the massacre in St. Louis."

Romero looked at Morgan for a moment, nodded, and then left.

.

"If Agent Jareau is now your main suspect," Hotch said, "why don't you let us out of here?"

"Comparing stories," MacKay responded. "Getting more information. You've done it before, Agent Hotchner, you know why."

Hotch nodded. His face was tense, and MacKay could tell that he was angry, but he wasn't saying anything.

"Tell me about Agent Jareau's recent behaviour," MacKay said.

Hotch's eyes flared. "Agent Jareau is not responsible for this," he told MacKay, his voice almost a growl.

Sighing, MacKay said, "I never said she was."

"But that's what you think," Hotch accused.

MacKay didn't reply. After a long moment, he said, "Agent Jareau's behaviour, please, Agent Hotchner?"

.

"Where are we going?" JJ asked.

"Somewhere safe," Sam told her, glancing at her face in the rear view mirror. "You okay, JJ?"

"Yes," she replied automatically, although there were countless adjectives she'd use to describe herself right now before _okay_ even crossed her mind. Scared. Stupid. Dead woman walking.

Sam narrowed his eyes at her reflection. She didn't look okay – he could tell her blood was pulsing through her body slightly faster than usual. He'd bitten into enough demon-infested humans to know how the blood flowed...

_Don't think of that, Sam_, he reminded himself. _Not now._

"Hey, JJ," he said, "Rosa gave you a necklace, right?" Like the necklace imprints on the victims' necks.

Dean glanced over at Sam. "Rosa?"

"My sister," JJ informed him, before looking over at Sam. "And she did. Why?"

Sam glanced at Dean, who looked slightly confused – of course, he didn't know what had happened to Rosa – and then back to JJ. "Normally, angry spirits are created by violent deaths," he said. "Suicide counts as a violent death. And the recent victims, at least, had a necklace imprint around their necks."

JJ's eyes widened. "You think – _Rosa?_"

Dean swerved, so suddenly that both Sam and JJ jumped, and he pulled over at the side of the road. They'd left Quantico hours ago, and they were now on a narrow country lane in the middle of nowhere. "Did Rosa self harm?" he asked, remembering the mysterious evidence of self harm on the victims' wrists which hadn't been there until they died.

"She, uh," JJ began, and then swallowed. "She killed herself by slitting her wrists."

"In a bathtub?" Sam questioned.

"Um," JJ said, "yeah. I found her there."

The Winchesters' voices spoke in unison immediately after JJ confirmed their theory. "Where's Rosa buried?"

JJ shook her head. "She wanted to be cremated," she muttered. "She was never..."

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, and then Sam questioned gently, "JJ? Where is her necklace now? Do you have it?"

JJ glanced between the two brothers, noting the expressions on their faces. They were waiting. Determined. Kinda sympathetic – Sam was, at least.

They were killers. She could see that now. She could see it in their faces – they were preparing to kill.

Her best chance would be to give them the necklace. Then they'd convince her that it was the right thing to do, convince her they'd saved her life somehow, and maybe take it off to some pawn shop somewhere, make some money out of it...

But it was her best chance of survival.

She reached into her pocket, where she'd placed the necklace before she'd been called to the conference room earlier, and pulled out the thin gold chain. "This is it," she told Sam.

He nodded and scooped it out of her hand. "Salt and burn?" he said to his brother.

Dean nodded. "Salt's in the trunk," he said. "I'll get it."

He made to open the door, but his hand never closed around the handle. The car was thrown sideways with the force of a hurricane, and it rolled until it was at least twenty minutes away from the road.

Dazed and in pain, JJ tried to make sense of what had just happened. It had been perfectly calm before, no weather to speak of. And yet...

For one half-second, she considered the possibility that the Winchesters were right.

And then her mind went dark.

.

"Sammy?" Dean yelled.

There was no sound. Then a yelp of pain. And then Sam's voice yelled, "Get the salt!"

Dean punched the window out of his way – a half-formed apology to his Baby formed subconsciously in his mind, but he couldn't concentrate on that when he might not live through the next five minutes – and he scrambled out of the upside-down Impala. Rolling over on the damp grass, he found his bearings, and crawled over to the trunk, which had been broken open by the crash, and grabbed the first thing that came to his hand. He read the label. Rock salt.

He split the packet open, spilling salt over his knees. It span upwards in a miniature tornado as Sam appeared, face bloody and nose broken, by his side. He dropped the necklace in the pile of salt, and Dean flicked the lighter that was already in his hand, and, hand shaking, accidentally dropped it on the necklace.

The fire caught immediately, though the wind blew strongly towards it, trying its best to put out the burning flame. After a minute, the wind faltered, faded, and stopped completely.

Relief was the first thing they felt. Dean exhaled, pushing himself upwards on shaking legs with the help of his car, and Sam grinned at their success, feeling the breath in his lungs after the rush of adrenaline that came with the hunt.

Dean glanced inside the car, trying to assess the damage that had been done. Broken windows, bent-in door, broken body in the back seat.

"Dammit," he growled, yanking the door off and climbing in towards her. "Hey! JJ? Can you hear me?"

Sam looked across and then clambered to his feet, almost falling because he moved so fast. "Is she okay?" He hurried across to the car, the opposite side to Dean, and pulled the door open. Dean was busy pulling JJ's seatbelt off her, and Sam helped him lower her down to rest on the roof – now the floor – of the car.

"Is she -" Dean began.

Sam reached across and pressed two fingers against JJ's neck, hoping with all he had that the woman he hardly knew was somehow still breathing.

Her skin was slippery, covered in blood, painted red with her injuries, but from beneath it he could feel the steady pulse, pulse, pulse of blood through her arteries that meant she was alive.

**A/N:**

**This will be continued on in the next installments – either _Killer,_ which will NOT involve a major character death, or in _Unhealed,_ which will. _Killer_ will be posted first, possibly within the next week. _Unhealed_ is a kind of AU to this story and could replace _Killer_ as the ending if you're willing to wait longer.**

**JJ is not going to die/be left with any lasting physical injuries in either story. Just to take a litte of the suspense away :-) Also both will start with the same/similar scenes (I haven't written it yet) which will involve Prentiss because I miss her and I'm sure you guys do to.**

**Please review! Any constructive criticism or any reaction to this at all is welcome! I need to know what you guys think of this in order to improve, so yeah. Please review?**


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